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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381484">the collision of two souls</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilys_bananas_coven/pseuds/lilys_bananas_coven'>lilys_bananas_coven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Again, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Gentle Kissing, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kinda, Moonlight, No Lesbians Die, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Stargazing, Suicidal Thoughts, cordelia hates everything, cordelia is one too, except misty, misty is a universe, this is vague</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:40:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilys_bananas_coven/pseuds/lilys_bananas_coven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Won’t you steal me from myself, charming thief? Love me bravely, ethereal being, for you are everything to me.’</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Misty Day &amp; Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode, Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the collision of two souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! Before I say anything else I should apologise, because while I am working on a few things that some lovely readers have requested, my brain also impulsively writes Foxxay even when I have other pieces to focus on. I wrote this last night and had to get it out because I'm *kind of* proud of it :'&gt; The next works will be requests, I promise! </p>
<p>p.s here's my tumblr if you have any prompts/requests(yes I learned how to hyperlink!!): <a href="https://lilys-bananas-coven.tumblr.com/post/633232114303778816/lilysbananascoven-archive-of">lilysbananascoven</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is in the barely existent haze of glimmering stardust that Cordelia finds herself tonight, weightless and questioning if she even exists. </p>
<p>“Delia, you ever wonder what it’s like all the way out there?”</p>
<p>Cordelia turns to gaze at the way Misty stargazes, eyes raking over her prominent features, pale skin worn perfectly over her cheekbones and the sharpness of her jaw. She glows. She glows in the moonlight like she’s not of this cursed, mortal world. Cordelia’s heart constricts at the unparalleled beauty that is Misty Day, just barely able to believe she’s even real. It’s so deliciously painful to love her, a craving of the soul that Cordelia may never be satisfied from. Misty is so much- she’s everything- but the fibers of Cordelia’s being will continue to chase these feelings and sensations, they will continue to chase the pure, unadulterated stimulation that Misty breathes into her until her own body breathes its last breath. </p>
<p>There is a vast and undiscovered world of its own in the woman’s glassy, cerulean eyes. Her intentions swim around in the shimmering pools of truth, and a peculiar purity that lives in them despite all that she’s seen. However she manages to find hope in this ending world is lost on Cordelia. Nonetheless, it’s truly a bewitching occurrence; Misty being an optimist. She wonders why she’d ever look back up at the sky as she formulates any kind of answer in her mind, so as to not leave Misty’s question hanging in the cold air of this night. </p>
<p>“I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t wrap my head around how far away those stars really are.”</p>
<p>She knows what it’s like to dip her feet in, just barely, where her toes can feel the coolness and the thrilling fear that is bound to ensue and obliterate her in her entirety. Cordelia’s heart is a desolate place. No matter the faintness of its pulse, the muscle harbours just enough strength to create her violently feverish cacoethes; the devilish one that prods her to dive into the deep end and drown there. </p>
<p>“Me neither. They’re just so far away… awfully pretty, aren’t they?” </p>
<p>Because being in love is not such a pleasant dream when the object of one’s affection is unattainable. It’s more of a frenzied flurry of feelings, tethering carelessly on the thin line between care and obsession. It’s destructive in every aspect that allows destruction. It’s fucking herself so fervently that she comes on her own fingers sobbing, Misty’s name stinging venemously on the tip of her tongue along with every tainted thought and blurry picture of eroticism her sinful imagination is capable of painting. It’s the way the angel on her shoulder is really just another devil like the one on her other side, and they conspire against her every time Misty’s name is spoken by another person, betraying her with their sick tones of jealousy whenever they can- her sick tones of jealousy. She’s the dying breath of sanity that fights the losing battle for an attempt at redemption just as much as she is the two devils on her shoulders that find far too much pleasure in their creative lambastings. Being in love, if she can even call it that, is no longer a feeling. It’s but a tragedy that she’s the sole victim of, and it won’t ever be the kind she can recover from if she has to hear Misty reject her. There is enough safety in her silence, however bad Cordelia is at being silent.</p>
<p>“They really are beautiful, Misty.” </p>
<p>A seemingly contented sigh is the only response Misty offers her in return. It’s enough, because this conversation probably doesn’t mean any more than nothing to her. To Cordelia, however, her harmless words are heavily loaded with implications that the latter won’t ever uncover. It’s okay.</p>
<p>Except it isn’t. It isn’t okay, but it has to be- she has to be. </p>
<p>The world will end this way, she supposes. Most mortals are blessed once in their lifetimes with everything they could ever want. The unlucky ones are cursed with never getting what they yearn for most, right up until they’re dead and it’s too late. In its inherent cynicism, Cordelia struggles to see life in any other way after being convinced that this is what it is from the day she had been born. What a misfortune, in all her blonde and beautiful and broken existence. </p>
<p>Perhaps nothing ever feels like it’s enough because even Misty, despite appearing like nothing short of an angel, or even a Goddess incarnate, can’t change the lenses worn on Cordelia’s tired eyes. It’s not her; nothing in this godforsaken life could ever be Misty’s fault. It’s just Cordelia, and the cruel insistence that once burned itself into the scaffolding of which she was built upon, promising her that she’s doomed in this life from start to finish. </p>
<p>Yet, she lives, and with godly grace that she’s all but aware of. </p>
<p>“Cordelia?” </p>
<p>It’s almost as if Misty’s tongue has a way of flavouring her every word with something Cordelia has never quite tasted anywhere else. The whispers are warmer, sweeter in their tender nature, while the low tones of her speaking voice still drip with some other kind of syrup. All of it is just heavily intoxicating, and the poison is nameless if it’s not Misty Day.</p>
<p>“Yes, Misty?”</p>
<p>“I sure do adore you.”</p>
<p>And on the outskirts of her mind, the words linger, but her walls are just about impenetrable. They’re sweeter than anything Cordelia’s ever been given in her decades of being so dreadfully alive. Perhaps it isn’t the mere words, but the lilt to her tone that only reveals how vulnerably honest her statement is. What could come out of this other than ruin? Her indifference to the world doesn’t anaesthetise her enough to Misty’s painful affection this time. Indeed does the unfamiliar rush of the unfiltered feeling push her closer to the edge of the diving board. She’s barely balancing on her trembling legs, arms spread out by her sides to gain any semblance of control. There isn’t any to go around; she’s reached her quota of control for a lifetime, and she’s nowhere near dying. Not physically, at least. </p>
<p>She falls.</p>
<p>It’s unceremonious, to the dismay of anyone who may have thought otherwise. Cordelia doesn’t know how she’ll ever tell Misty that she’s a star more spectacular than the biggest or brightest one they could ever see in the sky. They lie beside each other, souls lightyears away. Because Misty is an unexplored universe, infinitely filled with wonder, and Cordelia is an uninhabitable one, devoid of light as it barely exists in pulverised ruins. </p>
<p>The collision of two universes couldn’t possibly be as gentle as the way her lips are pressed into Misty’s. But it is. </p>
<p>By any infinitesimal chance that there’s a space, as close to perfection as possible, where they’re immortal to any and all devastation if they were to stand in it, then this is it. Nothing about it is elusive; the light is blinding but solid as ivory, and in these fleeting seconds Cordelia is already getting lost in the phenomenon of Misty and everything about her. She doesn’t know if she has even a sliver of something as fine and delicate to offer the latter, but Misty doesn’t seem to be searching for anything in particular. It’s a wonder that an angel like her can traverse the unforgiving ruins that are Cordelia’s heart and soul. </p>
<p>Someone may tell Cordelia that this strange warmth behind her ribcage, nestled somewhere in her chest, is what love feels like. She’d undoubtedly doubt them. It isn’t something she’s ever felt before, and until she can put a name on it herself, she will continue to beg the darling stars in the sky that this will be enough. </p>
<p>
  <em>‘Won’t you steal me from myself, charming thief? Love me bravely, ethereal being, for you are everything to me.’</em>
</p>
<p>This is volatile. It’s more scary than words can manage, and the water is up to her neck. She’s dived, impulse consuming her in the end. There’s a frighteningly addictive danger to it all, between hot exhales and kiss-swollen lips. This moment is all she can afford to lose her every inhibition for. Misty makes way for them as they’re strewn aside in favour of her presence. </p>
<p>Cordelia has lived for a long time, but she’s never felt so alive.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you liked that! It feels a little darker and more personal I guess? You could say I know a thing or two about unrequited love but this was really dramatic shfhsf</p>
<p>tumblr: <a href="https://lilys-bananas-coven.tumblr.com/post/633232114303778816/lilysbananascoven-archive-of">lilysbananascoven</a></p>
<p>p.s. i hope all my readers in the US are taking care of yourselves during the stressful elections. all my love, xx.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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